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THE v«/«V4B/^ve/^>v«^» 

GREEN KNIGHT 

A VISION v<s^vM*/*sv-fc/-* 

BY PORTER GARNETT: MUSIC 
BY EDWARD U G. STRICKLEN/** 
WITH A COVER DESIGN BY ARTHUR 
PUTNAM : DECORATIONS BY RALPH 
WARNER HART &r EUGEN NEUHAUS 
AND DRAWINGS OF THE COSTUMES 
AND A DIAGRAM OF THE THEATRE 
BY THE AUTHOR ^/tt^^^^^ 

THE NINTH GROVE PLAY OF THE BOHEMIAN 
CLUB OF SAN FRANCISCO AS PRODUCED BY 
THE AUTHOR AND PERFORMED BY MEMBERS 
OF THE CLUB IN THE BOHEMIAN GROVE • SONO- 
MA COUNTY ■ CALIFORNIA : ON THE OCCASION 
OF THE CLUB'S THIRTY-FOURTH ANNUAL 
MIDSUMMER JINKS : THE TWELFTH 
NIGHT OF AUGUST • NINE- 
TEEN HUNDRED & 
ELEVEN 



PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR 
THE BOHEMIAN CLUB BY 
SOME OF ITS MEMBERS 
SAN FRANCISCO : MCMXI 






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Copyright, 1 9 1 1 

by the 
Bohemian Club 




Taylor 

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The author and the composer gratefully 
acknowledge their indebtedness to Mr. 
Isaac O. Up ham and to those members 
through whose generosity the publication 
of this book has been made possible. 



Be still. The Hanging Gardens were a dream 

That over Persian roses flew to kiss 

The curled lashes of Semiramis. 

Troy never was, nor green Skamander stream. 

Provence and Troubadour are merest lies. 

The glorious hair of Venice was a beam 

Made within Titian's eye. The sunsets seem. 

The world is very old and nothing is. 

Be still. Thou foolish thing, thou canst not wake. 

Nor thy tears wedge thy soldered lids apart, 

But patter in the darkness of thy heart. 

Thy brain is plagued. Thou art a frighted owl 

Blind with the light of life thou'ldst not forsake. 

And Error loves and nourishes thy soul. 

— Trumbull Stickney. 




INTRODUCTION 

"After the prattise the theory." 

•t is now nine years since the first grove play — The 
Man in the Forest , by Charles K. Field, with music 
by Joseph D. Redding — was produced by the Bo- 
hemian Club. Since that time the plays that have 
been given at the annual Midsummer Jinks have 
presented many interesting phenomena. They have 
exhibited, for example, the methods employed by 
the various authors to fit their works into the pecul- 
iar physical conditions of our forest theatre with its 
hillside stage, and the manner in which they have 
sought to interpret the spirit of "The Grove. ,, 

The term "Grove spirit" is at best an illusive 
one, connoting as it does a wide range of implica- 
tions from an ordinary and traditional sentiment to 
those subtler aesthetic reactions which the possibili- 
ties for the creation of art that reside in the place 
arouse. It is the " Grove spirit" that produces the 
grove play; an art-work for presentation in a 
theatre completely and happily independent of all 
extra-aesthetic considerations of popular or commer- 
cial success ; an art-work of which the author is ab- 
solute autocrat, not only of its literary content but 

[vii] 



Introduction 

of the produ&Ion itself, provided he has the technical 
knowledge and experience necessary to make him inde- 
pendent of a stage-manager. It is such an opportunity 
as this that the Bohemian Club gives to its members — 
an opportunity which it is safe to say is not to be found 
anywhere else in the world. But the Bohemian Club is 
able to give this opportunity because, and only because, 
of its Grove, which through its acquisition by the club 
was saved from destruction, and which may be said to 
crystallize for its devotees, in some spiritual sense, the 
universal love of Nature, and to concentrate this love 
within itself. It is not so much that the Bohemian Club 
possesses a certain number of acres of forest land, but 
that it possesses a certain portion of Nature — a certain 
portion of Beauty. 

It is the " Grove spirit" that has spurred the musicians 
and writers of the club to undertake the labor of produc- 
ing its grove plays — labor of such magnitude that per- 
sons who do not understand the "Grove spirit" wonder 
that so much effort and enthusiasm should be expended 
upon plays which are not only produced but once, but 
which are so shaped to the conditions of the theatre that 
a repetition elsewhere (even were it desired, which it is 
not) would be impossible. It is the "Grove spirit" that 
induces the actors and those who assist in the produc- 
tion — from the stage-director to the man who plants a 
fern on the hillside — to do each his quota of the labor, 
to perform each his service for the Cause, the Cause of 
Beauty. It is this condition, foreign to the practises of pro- 
fessionalism, that goes far toward upholding the aesthetic 
standard of the Bohemian productions. Lastly, it is the 
cc Grove spirit" that makes a certain number of the audi- 
ence — by reason of their possession or their apprehen- 

[ viii ] 



Introduction 

sion of it — feel that they are participants in a rite, not 
spectators at an entertainment. 

The ritualistic character of the grove play is its most 
precious heritage from the earlier festivals of the club. 
It is the single modern instance of the communal idea in 
relation to the theatre ; the recrudescence of the spirit of 
the essentially ritualistic Greek drama; the most nearly 
complete realization of the dream of free art. 

This ritualistic character of the grove play is expressed 
through the Care motive, the Bohemia or Preserver 
motive, and the Brotherhood motive. The first of these 
motives is commonly introduced by means of a character 
in the play symbolizing the Spirit of Care. Again and 
again, through the fabric of poetry, music, and spectacle, 
this maleficent spirit obtrudes his hideous presence, utter- 
ing threats and vituperation, only to be discomfited and 
slain in the end by some god or hero symbolizing good- 
ness and right who is the savior of the grove and its 
denizens. The Preserver motive enters in the person 
of the conqueror of Care. The Brotherhood motive is 
usually presented in a speech by this central character or 
some other, forming a peroration at or near the end of 
the play, in which the philosophic purpose or message of 
the play is expressed. 

All of these ritualistic elements enter into the con- 
struction of The Green Knight. I have not, however, 
rendered the Brotherhood motive as founded in the Chris- 
tian tenet of the brotherhood of humanity, but as the 
brotherhood of art, bound together — not too closely, it 
is true — by the pagan notion of the worship of beauty. 
This pagan ideal is expressed in The Green Knight in 
terms of Christianity. I have sought at the same time to 
express in the solitary figure of the Green Knight, even 

[he] 



Introduction 

as he proclaims the divine attributes of Beauty, the ulti- 
mate loneliness of the artist. 

In considering the development of the grove play, the 
most interesting fads presented are, first, the originality 
of form, and, second, the manner in which the tastes and 
tendencies of the authors — now classic, now romantic — 
have been expressed in types of plays which are readily 
classifiable. 

There are four classes or types of grove plays. These 
are, the romantic-realistic ( The Man in the Forest, by 
Charles K. Field, and The Cave Man, by the same author), 
the romantic-idealistic ( The Hamadryads, by Will Irwin, 
and The Triumph of Bohemia, by George Sterling), the 
historical {Montezuma, by Louis A. Robertson, and St. 
Patrick at Tara, by H. Morse Stephens), and the myth- 
ological ( The §)uest of the Gorgon, by Newton J. Tharp, 
and The Sons of Baldur, by Herman ScherTauer). 

In all of these plays a conscious or unconscious origi- 
nality of form has been manifested in certain character- 
istics distinct from those that have been inherited from 
other types of the drama, from music-drama, and from 
opera. The influence of different genres may be observed 
operating in varying degrees according to the leanings 
of the authors and composers. I have pointed out in 
The Bohemian Jinks, a Treatise, the curious and interesting 
parallelisms with the Elizabethan masque that have been 
displayed in some of the grove plays. 

On the occasion of the production of The Hamadryads, 
in 1904, I alluded to the marked trend toward a "new 
art form" exhibited in that play. I have abundant reason 
for doubting that my meaning was generally understood, 
for since that time the term " new form " has been applied 
with the greatest looseness and impertinence (in the stricter 

[*] 



Introduction 

sense of the word) to all the grove plays. In point of 
fad: the tendency toward a new form — other than in 
certain peculiarities of shape imposed by the conditions — 
has not been evinced to any considerable extent except 
in The Hamadryads and The Triumph of Bohemia. (It is 
perhaps unnecessary to say that this asseveration has 
nothing whatever to do with the merits of the other 
grove plays as works of literary and musical art.) 

It will be noted that these two plays belong to the 
class that has been described as romantic-idealistic. They 
are essentially imaginative in plot and employ only super- 
natural characters or, as in Mr. Sterling's play, certain 
mortals removed from the realm of the spectator's uni- 
verse by the magic of poetry. They differ from The 
Man in the Forest and The Cave Man in the fact that 
although the last-mentioned plays are imaginative in plot 
they seek to depict realistically the facts of human experi- 
ence. The Hamadryads and The Triumph of Bohemia differ 
from all the other grove plays in the fundamental fact 
that the plots of all the other plays have been based to a 
greater or less extent upon historical or mythological 
characters and texts. 

In addressing myself to the task of writing a grove 
play I found myself under the necessity either of select- 
ing one of the established classes in which to couch my 
endeavor or of producing a play that should call for a new 
classification. It is the latter course that I have chosen. 

Taking the romantic-idealistic type of grove play as a 
foundation I have attempted to carry on in The Green 
Knight the trend toward form implicit in The Hamadryads 
and The Triumph of Bohemia ; to reduce this tendency to 
a canon of stage art conditioned by the physical character 
and the spirit of the Bohemian Grove. 

[xi] 



Introduction 

This attempt is due to no trivial desire to do the thing 
differently, but is born of an anarchic conviction which is 
the result of some eight years' study of the grove play as 
a problem in aesthetics. 

To contend that in art the only things worth doing 
are the things that have not been done is, in the opinion 
of most persons, to utter a heresy; it is as a matter of 
fact to utter what is almost a platitude. But in doing the 
thing that has not been done, it is not sufficient that the 
artist should depart from precedent — he must advance his 
art. As Wagner says in A Communication to My Friends^ 
the artist must " necessarily throw forward to the future 
the realization of his highest artistic wish, as to a life en- 
franchised from the tyranny of both Monument and 
Mode." The same idea was expressed by Paul Gauguin 
when he remarked to a friend, "In art there are only 
revolutionists and plagiarists." 

The most revolutionary departure from the earlier 
forms of the grove play effected in "The Green Knight is 
the elimination of singing. I have obtained thereby for 
the grove play a divorce ( alas, only an interlocutory de- 
cree ) from its mesalliance with opera, the strumpet of art. 

It would be a work of supererogation at this time of 
day to state the case against opera. Voltaire called works 
in the genre, "monstrous and unnatural productions," and 
the majority of aestheticians since his time have taken their 
flings at its fallacies. Wagner, who wrote his hundreds of 
pages to expose these fallacies, gives us the kernel of the 
whole question in a single sentence upon which he bestows 
all the emphasis of bold type. "The error," he says, "in 
the art-genre of Opera consists herein : that a means of 
expression (Music) has been made the end, while the 
End of expression ( the Drama ) has been made a means." 

[xii] 



Introduction 

The omission of singing may be considered a sacrifice, 
but it is a sacrifice only of what is termed "effectiveness." 
With this and other threadbare means of achieving " ef- 
fectiveness" ready to hand, I have preferred to put them 
aside rather than avail myself of their cheap aid, and to 
depend upon suggestion for the higher effectiveness, the 
less immediate but more profound response. Gordon 
Craig says in an essay on The Artists of the Theatre of the 
Future : " Once let the meaning of this word Beauty begin 
to be thoroughly felt once more in the theatre, and we 
may say that the awakening day of the theatre is near. 
Once let the word 'effective* be wiped off our lips, and 
they will be ready to speak this word Beauty." 

It has been my purpose therefore to create an art-work 
that is entirely imaginative and that is informed with 
beauty — a drama that shall invite, not the superficial 
emotive response, but a response of the spirit, less easily 
to be attained and for that reason more to be desired. 
In. other words, I have aimed not so much at expression 
as at evocation — not so much at statement (which is 
never art) as at suggestion (in which art has its only 
existence). I am depending on the receptive imagination 
of the auditor and the spectator, without which, as Joubert 
says, "la sensibilite est reduit au moment ou Von exist e; les 
sensations sont plus vives,plus courtes, et n ont point d'har- 
monie dans leur succession" 

The chief factors of dramatic " effectiveness," as it is 
understood in the debauched theatre of commerce, are 
"Human Interest" and "Sex Interest," operating through 
sentiment and passion rather than through intellect. Now 
human interest as an appeal to sentiment or as a bid for suc- 
cess is an extra-aesthetic consideration, and extra-aesthetic 
considerations, as I have already said, have (ideally) no 

[xiii] 



Introduction 

place in the grove play. The human motive (which is 
and must be the foundation of all drama) is expressed in 
The Green Knight symbolically. "We are coming closer to 
nature, as we seem to shrink from it with something of 
horror," says Arthur Symons in The Symbolist Movement 
in Literature. "And as we brush aside the accidents of 
daily life, in which men and women feel that they are 
alone touching reality, we come closer to humanity." 

I have dispensed with the sex element entirely, not 
only because it is not essential to free drama, but because 
it has no place in the ritual of a man's club. Another 
reason for this omission is that in the grove play female 
characters must be figured by men, and it is better to 
avoid such a demand upon illusion. 

I do not intend to make here an exhaustive analysis 
of the form of The Green Knight , but merely to consider 
some of its archetectonic elements in their aesthetic and 
technical aspects. I have prefaced these considerations 
with the phrase, " After the practise the theory " (which 
I borrow from the title-page of that most precious of 
magazines devoted to the drama, The Mask), because 
much that is here set down in terms of theory was, in the 
planning and composition of the play, the expression of 
temperamental inclination. I mean by this that I did not 
in preparing my scenario measure the classic element in- 
troduced in the adjustments essential to form with the 
foot rules of Aristotle or Lessing, nor in writing the play 
did I weigh the romantic elements of suggestion and at- 
mosphere in the scales of Plato, Rousseau, Novalis, or 
Schlegel. Whatever appearance of adjustment between 
the classic and the romantic elements there may be has 
been instinctive rather than deliberate. 

The Green Knight bears the sub-title, "A Vision." I 

[xiv] 



Introduction 

have attempted in it to externalize the illusion of a dream ; 
to conjure from the hillside a drama of "the Other-World 
of Dreams," peopled with beings of fancy whose existence 
is of the present as is the existence of the unsubstantial 
creatures that visit us in sleep. It is a drama of the spiritual 
macroscosm of which the spirit of the spectator is the 
microcosm. 

I have endeavored to keep secret from the members 
of the club the nature of the play and the identity of the 
participants in order to carry the illusion as far as possible 
toward that perfection in which the individuality of the 
actor is completely lost in that of the character he figures. 

One cannot consider the question of illusion without 
one's mind turning to the Pensees of Joubert from which 
I have quoted above. I cannot do better here, however, 
than to set down an epitome of his "thoughts" on 
this subject as given by Professor Babbitt in his delight- 
ful book, The New Laokoon: "Joubert remarks . . . that 
spirit and matter come into relation with one another 
only through the medium of illusion; and he goes on to 
say some of the most penetrating things that have been 
said by any writer about the role of imaginative illusion 
in mediating between the lower and the higher nature 
of man. . . . Joubert, then, conceives it to be the role of 
the imagination, mediating as it does between sense and 
reason, to lend its magic and glamour to the latter, to 
throw as it were a veil of divine illusion over some essen- 
tial truth." 

In all the grove plays there has been a primary dis- 
tinction in form imposed by the physical conditions of 
the locus and by the fact that they are restricted in length. 
It is to be observed also that the best examples conform 
to the Greek unities of time, place, and action. Again, 

[XV] 



Introduction 

the scene is necessarily laid in a forest, although in one 
instance {Montezuma) this fact was ignored. Other char- 
acteristics that have obtained in some of the grove plays 
though not in all should, in the writer's opinion, be re- 
garded as principles of the form. These are : 

(i) The setting should have no relation to geography. 
The spectator should not be called upon to adjust his 
mind to regarding the action as taking place in this or that 
locality, as was the case in Montezuma when he was asked 
to consider the stage as the summit of a teocalli in Mexico, 
and in St. Patrick at Tara in which the action purported 
to take place in Ireland. With the opportunity that the 
writers of grove plays have to get away from the artificial 
conditions of the playhouse it seems unwise for them to 
demand an adjustment that is not only psychologically 
impossible but unnecessary. For this reason I maintain 
that the scene of a grove play should be as it has been in 
most of them, simply "a forest." 

(2) For similar reasons the time should be indeter- 
minate, not, for example, in 1520 as in Montezuma or in 
432 as in St. Patrick. 

(3) Since the performance takes place at night, the 
action of the play should not call for daylight, artificially 
and unconvincingly created by means of calciums. 

The tendency toward definiteness of form my be said 
to exist in the fulfilment of these principles, and their 
actual fulfilment is found in Mr. Irwin's 'The Hamadryads 
and in Mr. Sterling's The Triumph of Bohemia. To carry 
on this trend toward form and to fashion a play that should 
not only contain these principles, but should borrow none 
of its elements of form from other genres — poetic drama, 
music-drama, opera — has been my object in writing The 
Green Knight. In other words, my purpose has been to 

[xvi] 



Introduction 

establish within a limited field a new canon of the drama. 
How successful I have been my readers must judge for 
themselves. 

The first step in this revolutionary attempt was, as I 
have stated above, to divorce the grove play from opera 
while retaining the factors of poetry and music in a more 
legitimate intimacy. The most important principle intro- 
duced in the play has to do with the interrelation and 
balance of the three factors of poetry, music, and spectacle. 
It may be stated as a formula thus: The duration and 
content of the successive and concurrent episodes of poetry, 
music, and speclacle are adjusted to a purely esthetic de- 
mand for an alteration of interest. That is to say, when 
one element or a combination of elements has held the 
attention to a point whereat a new interest for the eye 
or the ear is aesthetically desirable, a new interest is 
supplied. It is a function of criticism to determine at 
what point the introduction of a new interest is aestheti- 
cally desirable; it is the artist's business to see that the 
new interest shall be aesthetically adequate. To restate 
the principle by means of illustration : If the music give 
way to poetry, the episode during which the orchestra is 
silent must not be prolonged beyond the point whereat 
the reintroduction of music would be aesthetically desir- 
able ; per contra, an episode that is chiefly musical or one 
that is chiefly spectacular must be relieved by another 
element before it is carried into the quicksands of tedium. 
It will be readily seen how the adjustment of the various 
elements may be made to affect the movement of the 
action. 

Some of my readers, credulous of the chimera Inspira- 
tion, have already satisfied themselves that a work con- 
structed by such means must perforce show the traces of 

[xvii] 



Introduction 

its mechanical creation, but the determining of the epi- 
sodes is a thing arrived at not through intellection but 
through aesthetic judgment. The arrangement is objecti- 
fied on the basis of the hypothetical psychoses of the 
"ideal spectator"; that is to say, it is approximated by 
the artist to what he feels , not to what he thinks are the 
desires of the person of taste. 

It is by the addition of the element of music to the 
elements of poetry and spectacle that the grove play is 
differentiated from the various forms of poetic drama. It 
must be noted also that the relation of the music to the 
other elements is often (and should always be) of a sort 
that makes the music more than merely incidental. In 
spite of the fact that The Green Knight contains no sing- 
ing, the musical element is given in this play greater 
prominence, independence, and responsibility than it has 
had in other grove plays. It plays a more important 
part in the structure of the play. It is brought, in fact, to 
a point beyond which it would be impossible to go with- 
out forcing upon the music an over-emphasis that would 
be destructive of artistic symmetry. "The relation in 
which music places itself to poetry," says Ambros, "is pe- 
culiar when it has the mission of uniting itself to a spoken 
drama" Continuing with a consideration of certain works 
of this kind, particularly Beethoven's Egmont music, he 
says, " Compositions of the kind address the theatre in the 
language of Scipio : 'Nee ossa mea habebis, ingrata patria> 
throw around themselves the beggar's cloak of a c con- 
necting declamation,' and withdraw into the concert hall. 

"' Why, ye poor fools, for such a paltry end, 

Plague the coy muse, and court her fair regards?"' 

"It is extremely hard," he concludes, "for the com- 
poser to hit the golden mean so as not on the one hand 

[xviii] 



Introduction 

to let his music sink down to padding and patchwork, 
nor, on the other hand, to claim obtrusively too great in- 
dependent value by the side of the poetical work." 

The real difficulty lies in the fact that works of this 
sort are never the result of a true collaboration. The 
musician takes the finished work of the poet and applies 
music to it as one might apply color to a statue. Such a 
method as this prevents the music from being an integral 
part of the art-work. Eliminate the music and the poetic 
text retains its integrity — its completeness. It might be 
argued that a "lyrical action" written in collaboration by 
Maeterlinck and Debussy would be a finer work of art 
qua art than the Pelleas et Melisande of Maeterlinck plus 
Debussy which Lawrence Gilman calls <c the perfect mu- 
sic-drama." Of such a work George Lilley could not say 
as he does of Pelleas et Melisande in a recent article in the 
Contemporary Review ', " a few incidents have been omitted, 
sacrificed of necessity to considerations of duration." 

It will hardly be denied that, ideally, an art-work in- 
volving both poetry and music should be conceived in 
terms of the two arts. It is this method that Mr. Strick- 
len and the writer employed in The Green Knight. The 
musical element in its association with the plot was com- 
pletely worked out before the composition of the music 
or the writing of the play was begun. The two elements, 
together with the mise en scene ( spectacle, lighting, stage- 
craft, costume, etc.), were given form concurrently and 
each episode was completed before passing to the next. 
As a result of this method there are ten episodes in which 
the music is an essential part of the dramatic structure. 
In three of these poetry plays a subordinate part; in one, 
a part equivalent to the music; and in six, the music 
carries the discourse unassisted by the spoken word. It 

[xix] 



Introduction 

is curious to note in this connection what Wagner has to 
say in Opera and Drama on the subject of collaboration. 
His remarks are particularly interesting because, in the 
minds of most persons, Wagner stands committed to the 
one-man method that he himself employed. He says: 
"The Poet and Musician are very well thinkable as 
two persons. In fact the Musician, in his practical inter- 
mediation between the poetic aim and its final bodily 
realizement through an actual scenic representation, might 
necessarily be conditioned by the Poet as a separate per- 
son, and, indeed, a younger than himself. . . . This younger 
person, through standing closer to Life's instinctive ut- 
terance — especially (aucb) in its lyric moments, — might 
well appear to the more experienced, more reflecting Poet, 
as more fitted to realize his aim than he himself is." 
Wagner did not undertake collaboration for the reasons 
contained in the following passage : " If we consider the 
present attitude assumed by Poet and Musician toward 
one another, and if we find it ordered by the same maxims 
of self-restriction and egoistic severance, as those which 
govern all the factors of our modern social State : then 
we cannot but feel that, in an unworthy public system 
where every man is bent upon shining for himself alone, 
there none but the individual Unit can take into himself 
the spirit of Community, and cherish it and develop it 
according to his powers." He adds in a note, "No one 
can be better aware than myself, that the realizement of 
this ["Perfected"] Drama depends on conditions which 
do not lie within the will, nay, not even within the capa- 
bility (Fdhigkeit) of the Unit, but only in Community, 
and in a mutual co-operation made possible thereby." * 

* Richard Wagner's Prose Works t translated by William Ashton Ellis. Vol. II ( Opera 
and Drama), pp. 355-356. 



Introduction 

We come now to characteristics of the play which have 
to do with both the static element of form and the dynamic 
element of treatment. These are (i) the employment of 
musical accompaniment for spoken lines and (2) the varia- 
tion of rhythms. 

To ignore the possibilities of the human voice com- 
bined with music or treated as an instrument itself is to 
ignore a field for aesthetic effort that has been only par- 
tially explored and one that offers many allurements and 
opportunities. We have behind us in this field certain 
forms of the Greek fxekoiroua^ the melologues of Berlioz, 
and the recitative of the Italians and of Wagner. In our 
own time we have the musical elocution of Debussy's 
Pelleas et Melisande, the experiments in accompanied 
recitation made by William Butler Yeats and Arnold 
Dolmetsch, and many works of the type of Richard 
Strauss's melodrame setting of Enoch Arden^ which Arthur 
Symons describes as done "after that hopelessly wrong 
fashion which Schumann set in his lovely music to Man- 
fred" To these may be added the banalities of free 
musical accompaniment to the spoken word. 

The reader will find in Mr. Stricklen's Synopsis of the 
Music an illustration of the method we have employed in 
associating the "word-speech" and the "tone-speech" in 
one of the episodes of 'The Green Knight. It will be noted 
therein how the method differs from others in that the 
relation of the word-speech and tone-speech does not de- 
pend merely upon occasional fixed or arbitrary points of 
contact, but provides a virtually unbroken parallel be- 
tween the rhythm pattern of the poetry and that of the 
accompaniment. The music has been consistently brought 
to the words in both configuration and atmosphere. In 
Debussy's method the voice part (according to Lawrence 

[xxi] 



Introduction 

Gilman "an electrified and heightened form of speech") 
though unmelodic is still musical ; that is to say, musical 
intervals and variations of pitch based on these intervals 
are taken into account. It calls for what Aristoxenus 
termed the £C discrete " as against the " continuous " move- 
ment of the voice. In the method employed for The 
Green Knight no account is taken in the voice part of the 
restricted musical intervals, for, although much has been 
done by Helmholz, Merkel, and others toward determin- 
ing the relative pitch of the voice in pronouncing the 
various sounds of the vowels and in the variations arising 
from accent and emphasis, it is impossible to indicate the 
pitch of the human voice except on the basis of the re- 
stricted intervals of the musical scale. Musical notation 
has been employed to indicate the quantitative value of 
syllable and pause producing the rhythm pattern of the 
speech which is the basis of the musical parallel. 

The variation of rhythms alluded to above is carried 
out in the assignment of different rhythms to different 
characters. The employment of different rhythms for 
purposes of variety is characteristic of the Greek drama 
and occurs in plays of all periods, but as far as I can 
ascertain no attempt has before been made to identify 
certain rhythms with certain characters. The various 
rhythms employed in The Green Knight are intended to 
bear an atmospheric relation to the attributes of the char- 
acters, each rhythm constituting a kind of poetic leitmotif. 
The lines that may be said to form the dramatic frame- 
work of the play are in the unrhymed iambic pentameter 
of ordinary blank verse. In this class fall the lines of the 
Black Knight (except in the invocation to Sathanas for 
which a dactylic rhythm is employed), the Prince, Sa- 
thanas, Archolon, and the King. The Elf- King whose 

[xxii] 



Introduction 

lines are lyrical speaks in rhymed trimeter and tetrameter. 
To Madolor the malignant and scurrilous dwarf a rhyth- 
mical prose is given. The Green Knight, after the silence 
he maintains for some time following his entrance, finally 
speaks in trochaic rhythm which is brought into imme- 
diate contrast with the iambic measures of the other 
characters and is intended to emphasize his divine aloof- 
ness. In his final speech, an apostrophe to Beauty, which 
by reason of the relation that its content bears to the play 
as a whole should have a salient character of its own, I 
have preserved the trochaic rhythm of his other speeches 
and have sought to attain the desired effect by adding the 
dactyllic foot of the hendecasyllabic verse. 

There is much that might be said of a technical nature 
regarding such elements of the grove play as the lighting, 
the arrangement or composition of the spectacle in its 
relation to the scale of the hillside, the functions of cos- 
tume, color psychology, etc., but these matters are of in- 
terest only to the technician. 

In a play such as I have endeavored to produce in 
The Green Knight — a play in which atmosphere, illusion, 
suggestion are primary considerations — acting, as it is 
commonly practised and commonly understood, would 
defeat the playwright's aim. The effort of the individual 
actor to be in his own part as "effective" as possible 
could result in nothing but the tearing asunder of what- 
ever veil of illusion may have been woven by Poetry on 
the loom of Nature. It is interpretation, therefore, rather 
than acting that will be sought in the production. 

As I end these considerations, written at a time when 
the realization of the work of which they treat is not 
far distant, I may be forgiven if I close with the same 
words in which three years ago I concluded my book on 

[ xxiii ] 



Introduction 

the grove plays of the Bohemian Club. In doing so I 
hope that I have not failed to live up to the ideals there- 
in expressed: 

"At a time when the creative impulses that stir in this 
far Western country with its smiling Italian skies and its 
atmosphere of the youth of the world; a land hospitable 
to the seeds of art that, even amid the weeds of provin- 
cialism and the worms of bourgeois bigotry and ignorance, 
give promise of blossoms with something of the fineness 
and rarity of old-world flowers — one cannot but specu- 
late upon the destiny of this interesting exotic, the Bo- 
hemian Club grove play. Has it said all that it has to 
say ? Is the spell of T^he Hamadryads^ the sustained charm 
of ^he triumph of Bohemia to be reached again ? Will the 
balance between the various factors — the dramatic, the 
musical, and the spectacular — be maintained, or will the 
zeal of the actor, of the musician, or of the artist tend, by 
forcing an over-emphasis upon one of these factors, to 
formulate a new type or cause a reversion to an old one? 
Should any of these things occur the grove plays will un- 
doubtedly lose the distinction that they now have and will 
become mere reflections of other forms of stage presenta- 
tion. . . . The greatest danger is that they will degenerate 
into more or less commonplace drama or opera. Like 
water that has been carried to a height they will sink to 
their own level again the moment the force that has driven 
them upward is withdrawn. Having its origin in the 
drama the grove play has been swept, one might say, by 
c the supreme interference of beauty/ in a series of concat- 
enated creative impulses into what is as much entitled to 
the name of a new art form as the Wagnerian music-drama. 
It remains to be seen whether or not it will revert to the 
parent stock and be lost as a distinct genre. 

[xxiv] 



Introduction 

"Ideally it should be poetic not only in treatment but 
in conception; the musical element should not be melo- 
dramatic, but conceived in the same poetic spirit; and the 
whole interpreted discreetly by action and spectacle. 

" With these qualities the Bohemian grove play gives to 
those who react to its spirit, who appreciate it in its relation 
to its environment, and who register its implications, an 
impression of what can be likened to nothing so fitly as 
to a mysterious and unforgettable dream." 

P. G. 
Berkeley, California. 
July 14, 191 1. 



[xxv] 



PERSONS OF THE VISION 



NEOTIOS, a wood-god 
THE GREEN KNIGHT 
THE BLACK KNIGHT 
THE ELF-KING 
THE PRINCE 
MADOLOR, a dwarf 
ARCHOLON, a priest 
SATHANAS] 
THE KING j 
AN ELF 

FIRST KNIGHT 
SECOND KNIGHT 
THIRD KNIGHT 
FOURTH KNIGHT 
AN ANGEL 



persona mutce* 



Mr. Herbert Heron 
Mr. Ernest S. Simpson 
Mr. Marshall Darrach 
Mr. Charles K. Field 
Mr. Harold K. Baxter 
Mr. William H. Smith, Jr. 
Mr. Charles C. Trowbridge 

Mr. John Housman 

Mr. Harris C. Allen 
Mr. James G. Melvin 
Mr. Robert Melvin 
Mr. George Purlenky 
Mr. Theodore G. Elliott 
Mr. Harry P. Carlton 



Elves, Goblins, Moonbeams, Captives 

Time : The Present, a Midsummer Night 
Place : A Forest in the Other-World of Dreams 



[ xxvii ] 



The author has been assisted by Mr. 
Edward J. Dujfey in the technical 
execution of the lighting scheme, by 
Mr. Harry Stuart Fonda in the prep- 
aration of the stage and properties ', 
by Mr. George B. de Long in devising 
and rehearsing the Dance of the Moon- 
beams, and by Messrs. Harris C. Allen 
and Edward E. Jones in devising and 
rehearsing the Dance of the Elves. 



Orchestra : Eight first violins, six second violins , 
four violas , four violoncellos, four double-basses, two 
flutes (piccolo), two oboes, two clarinets, two bas- 
soons, two trumpets, four horns, three trombones, 
tuba, harp, tympani and drums. Concert Master, 
William F. Hofmann. 

Conductor, Edward G. Stricklen. 



[ xxviii ] 




THE GREEN KNIGHT 

It is just before moonrise. The place is at the foot of a 
wooded hillside in a forest of gigantic trees. In the foreground 
there is an open space or glade ', around which the clean shafts 
of the trees rise to a great height, Their branches ', bearing 
heavy foliage, extend to a height as great again and are lost 
in the blackness of the night sky. The nearest trees frame the 
view of the glade and hillside. The latter is shrouded in im- 
penetrable darkness. As the moon rises it may be seen that 
the slope at the back of the glade is an open space more or less 
irregularly inclosed by trees. It terminates well up the ascent 
at a group of three trees. Beyond, a dense growth of foliage 
shuts off from view the upper part of the hill. Below this point 
the terraces of the hillside are covered with ferns and vines, 
through which a winding path, wholly concealed by the lux- 
uriant foliage, crosses and recrosses the hillside at different 
levels. It reaches the floor of the glade at the back and on 
the left, from which point it ranges upward and into the wood 
on that side. This wild spot is in the innermost depths of a 
great forest in the Other-World of Dreams. From a tree 
near the place where the path enters, a dull brazen shield 
is suspended. 

\The sound of a harp is faintly heard from the 
darkness. As it continues a dim light appears 
behind two great trees on the farther side of the 

N 



The Green Knight 

glade. It grows more intense until it becomes a 
golden glow. From the thicket between the two 
trees a naked youth steps forth. On his head he 
wears a wreath of vine leaves and in his hand 
he carries a rustic cithara on which, for a moment , 
he is seen to play a succession of rippling chords, 
^he glow fades away, but a mysterious light illu- 
mines the figure of the youth. He gazes about 
wonderingly and then walks slowly forward until 
he reaches the middle of the glade. Wonderingly 
he speaks.] 

NEOTIOS 

Temple of Peace ! within thy noble walls 
In humbleness I stand who am a god. 

Here have I come from out the secret wood — 

Neotios, the son of Pan. Behold, 

O mortals favored by the sight of one 

No mortal eye has ever seen before — 

Behold a humble god and be not proud ! 

Abase yourselves before these silent trees 

Wrapped in the solemn mantle of the night; 

For tho' ye all be lovers of the woods, 

And for this reason I am sent to you, 

Bearing the message of my father, yet, 

Love not as masters but as servitors ; 

Think not yourselves too great, O men, for here, 

Amid these giant monuments of eld, 

Ye are but puny things that live and die 

Like traceless moments in eternity ! 

Be lovers, then, but humble lovers. Yield 

All reverence to your leafy masters. Bow 

Before them, worship them, and know content. 

[*] 



The Green Knight 

Thus have all wise men worshiped forest fanes 
Since forests granted grateful shade to man, 
And wood-gods hid where netted shadows fell, 
Or danced and wantoned with the shining nymphs. 

And now, ye mortals, ye that give your hearts 
To labor and to strife and earthly hopes, 
And, giving, suffer 'neath the crush of Care, — 
Because ye have not bartered all your souls, 
But saved for him a moiety of love, 
Pan bids me give you greeting in his name. 

Welcome, mortals, to this charmed grove ! 
Welcome to this temple old and dim ! 
Welcome to this dwelling-place of peace ! 
Forget your toil, remember not your strife, 
And banish from ye every thought of care! 
So may ye, like to little children who 
In innocence lie down to rest, be lulled 
To an enchanted sleep wherein the night 
Shall fabric visions for your souls' delight. 

Dream, mortal men ! Dream!. ..Dream!... 

Dream! .. . Dream!. .. This hour 
Is granted unto you by gracious gods. . . . 
Dream, mortal men, while breezes thro* the boughs 
Waft strains of gentlest music to your ears ! . . . 
Hark! litanies of trembling moonlit leaves 
Invite my lyre. . . . 

\He strikes his cithara and continuing to play rippling 
chords he speaks the following lines.] 

The echoes answer low. . . . 
Dream, mortal men ! . . . Soon, chord on sounding chord, 

[3] 



The Green Knight 

The forest will be swept with melody. . . . 

Sleep!. ..Dream '....Forget dull Care!... 
Farewell! . . . 

\^As he speaks the last words neotios slowly leaves 
the glade playing on his cithara and pausing after 
each admonition, 'The rippling chords of the cithara 
are expressed by a series of arpeggios on the harp. 
They form the introdutlion to the Prelude, which 
is now played. The glade and hillside remain empty, 
dark, and silent. The discourse of the Prelude be- 
gins with an interpretation of the mysteries of the 
forest and the night. Certain motives are then in- 
troduced that foreshadow the episodes of the vision. 
The more important of these — the Green Knight 
motive and the Black Knight or Care motive — 
recur frequently. The music swells from the mur- 
mur ings indicative of the forest at night to the 
thunders of the Conflitl Music and again sinks 
into its woodland char abler. A new theme — that 
of the Elf-King — finally enters, and, at the same 
time, a figure is vaguely seen moving about in the 
semi-darkness. The Elf-King motive is developed 
while the figure, which is that of the elf-king, 
approaches gradually from the darkness until, com- 
ing quite near, the rays of the rising moon fall upon 
him. Over a green hose he wears a short, close- 
fitting tunic of overlapping green leaves, touched 
with red and gold. His high sandals are of gold; 
he wears a head-dress of gold and jewels, fashioned 
in the form of an owl. A long cloak of dark green 
gossamer, richly embroidered in gold, flows from 
his shoulders. He carries a golden wand tipped 
with jewels. The music continues as he speaks.~\ 

[4] 



The Green Knight 

THE ELF-KING 

Night, once more, once more 

1 welcome thee ! . . . 

At last 
Thy shadowy cloak is cast 
Upon the woodland's floor. 
What mysteries outpour 
From forest chambers vast, 
From aged trees and hoar, 
Proud heriters of lore, 
Rich coffers of the past! 
What golden music sifts 
Among the boughs, and lifts 
Its melody on high 
Where like a flower drifts 
The moon across the sky ! 

Now Nature in a swoon 

Of love forgets the noon, 

And treetops, tower-stemmed, 

Are brightly diademmed 

By yonder pallid moon; 

A silver lily there, 

In gardens of the air, 

With pale star-blossoms gemmed- 

Pale blossoms that have hemmed 

The dusky robe of Night 

With broideries of light 

Since golden stars and white 

The fair moon made more fair. 

On all the world sweet Sleep 
Now casts her subtle power; 

[5] 



The Green Knight 

No life defies the hour; 

No living thing, no flower 

But nestles in the dark; 

No creature dares to peep 

From bramble shadows deep; 

No cry of beast or bird 

In all the wood is heard; 

No voice ... no sound. . . . 
[An owl hoots softly.'] 

But hark ! 

The owl's nocturnal note 

Gainsays my wasted word ; 

Mysterious and remote, 

His dreary measures float 

Afar off to the shore 

Of the land that's called — No More. 
\High on the -path in the direction of the moon the 
youthful figure of a moonbeam, clad in diaphanous 
garments of pale blue, white, and silver, and 
crowned with silver rays, appears and descends to 
the glade. Other moonbeams — twelve in all — 
follow at intervals?] 

Lo ! down yon pathway steep 

The silent moonbeams creep, 

As from a languid cloud 

The moon, with silver prowed, 

Sails on the searchless deep. 

With noiseless feet they troop 

Where topmost branches droop ; 

Thro' massy trees and tall, 

See how they softly fall 

Like petals on the ground ; 

Like petals wreathing round, 

[6] 



The Green Knight 

They fall without a sound. 
Come, moonbeams silver-white ! 
Come, moonbeams silver-bright! 
To woodland dark and dumb. 
Come, moonbeams! . . . Come! . . . 

Come! Come! 

\_As each moonbeam reaches a position in the glade 
he sinks gently to the ground, his filmy draperies 
spread about him, and remains motionless until 
all have so disposed themselves, The music now 
merges into a slow dance and, one by one, the 
moonbeams rise and begin to glide about the glade, 
moving rhythmically around them their floating 
draperies. In this wise they slip in and out of the 
shadows cast by the great trees, The elf-king 
ascends to a station on the lower hillside whence he 
watches the dancing moonbeams. After a time, he 
speaks.~\ 

Dance on, dance on, ye moonbeams bright ! 
Before your gleaming footsteps, see, 
A shadow hides behind each tree, 
As tho' it could not bear the sight 
Of phantoms that adorn the night. 
Dance on, while to this charmed spot, 
From bower, coppice, nook, and grot, — 
From forest shades to drifts of light, 
I summon goblin, elf, and sprite. 
[The elf-king turns toward the hillside and, wav- 
ing his wand now tipped with a point of light, 
utters a call,'] 

Ho . . . ya-ho . . . yahoyahoyaho ! 
\_An echo repeats the call from the diretlion of the 
hill, and, at the same moment, a number of tiny 

[7] 



The Green Knight 

lights are seen darting hither and thither on the 
slope. The elf-king calls again.~\ 

Ho . . . ya-ho . . . yahoyahoyaho ! 
\_The call is again repeated by an echo. Now the 
heads of elves and goblins peep from the shrubbery, 
and, springing from their hiding-places , the fairy 
folk come pouring down into the glade to the accom- 
paniment of sprightly elfin music and form them- 
selves into two rings. One of these is in the glade 
itself and the other surrounds the elf-king on his 
elevation. In this wise the elves and goblins dance 
about merrily, The moonbeams withdraw from 
the center to the outskirts of the glade > and continue 
to sway their draperies rhythmically. Finally the 
elfin rings break. The goblins run about pursuing 
one another playfully. One tries to escape his pur- 
suer by hiding behind the cloak of the elf-king. 
Others play leap-frog. Still others dart in and out 
among the dancing elves. The elf-king looks on 
indulgently. The Dance of the Elves has con- 
tinued for some time when the Black Knight or 
Care theme is heard. The elf-king starts and 
listens. The Care theme is heard again. He dis- 
plays increasing alarm.] 

What sound drives silence from the gloom, 
Where awful shadows gauntly loom, 
And echoes with the threat of doom? 
[He listens. The Care theme is heard more insist- 
ently^ 

Once more the forest sighs, once more 
The vagrom winds a warning pour 
From hilltop high to forest floor. 
\He comes down among the dancing elves and raises 

[8] 



The Green Knight 

his hand. The elves stop dancing and gather 
about him.~\ 

Hold ! . . . Stop ! . . . Give heed ! . . . 

AN ELF 

Nay, nay, I plead ! 
I pray ! 

THE ELF-KING 

Peace ! . . . Peace ! . . . 
Your dancing cease ! . . . 
Hark! . . . Hark! . . . There! . . . There! . . . 
He comes ! . . . Beware 
Relentless Care! 

an elf \_protesting~\ 
No, no! 

the elf-king \cautioning\ 

Go ! Go ! 

Thro* dark aisles glide ! . . . 

In bracken hide . . . 

In grasses lush . . . 

In vine and brush . . . 

Hush!... 

Away ! . . . Away ! . . . 

Obey ! . . . 
\As the elf-king admonishes them, the elves, goblins, 
and moonbeams withdraw stealthily and enter the 
shrubbery where they disappear. The elf-king 
is the last to leave the glade, which now remains 
empty. During this scene the music is reduced to 
fragmentary phrases of the Dance of the Elves 
and the music of the forest at night that was heard 

[9] 



The Green Knight 

in the Prelude. Under these the Care theme is 
heard at intervals, with greater power at each 
repetition. As the elf-king leaves the glade the 
Care motive reaches its full development, and 
the black knight appears on the lower hillside 
dragging the prince after him by the wrist. 'The 
black knight is clad in chain mail, a hood of 
which covers his head. Over his armor he wears a 
black surcoat with dagged edges that comes to his 
knees. On the breast of this is the device of a skull 
in yellowish white. His face is of a grey pallor 
and he wears a black beard. The prince is habited 
in a white costume befitting his rank, though simple 
rather than rich. The black knight strides 
down to the middle of the glade and flings the 
prince violently to the ground. The music ceases. 
The prince buries his face in his hands and weeps.] 

THE BLACK KNIGHT \brutally\ 

There wash the earth with flood of desperate tears ! 

Weep, fool! At last thy journey is at end — 

Thy journey and thy peace. Thro' painful leagues 

Of serried trees that mocked with dismal moans 

Thy futile cries, we now at last are come 

Unto the very bowels of the wood. 

These halls of blackness are the tomb of hope; 

In this my dark abode thou shalt remain 

And give me service till thy sickened soul 

Is loosened by the clement sword of Death. 

My shadow covers thee as with a pall ; 

Let flow thy wild, hot tears, for nevermore 

Shalt thou be plucked from out the shroud of Care. 

Beneath that cruel sheet there is no rest; 

[10] 



The Green Knight 

Who sleeps therein must tenant dreams of pain, 

Of anguish, and of fear. As stone on stone 

Strikes sparks of sudden fire that quickly die, 

So in thy cracking brain shall visions flash 

Of bygone joys and agonies to be. 

Yea, Memory turned monster shall unroll 

Before thine eager eyes delighting scenes 

Of feasts and pageants, gardens, warriors, slaves, 

Soft maidens, music, love, and deep-hued wines. 

THE PRINCE 

No more, in pity ! Ah, no more ! no more ! 
See how these tears beseech thee ! Let them melt 
Thine iron heart; or, failing, word thy wish — 
The king my father shall requite thee ; yea, 
E'en to his realm ! Break thy design, and gold, 
Like rain, shall pour upon thee. Thou shalt wade, 
Thigh-deep, a golden river margined fair 
By pebbled banks strewn all with jewels rare. 
Have pity! 

THE BLACK KNIGHT 

Peace ! Hope not, thou whining dog, 
That weeping shall unproof my master will, 
Nor deem I snatched thee from thy father's court 
To let thee free for pity ! Nay, thou swine ! 
Should every tear that drips from thy mad eyes 
Become a splendid jewel at my feet, 
Thou wouldst not lessen by a single pang 
The anguish I ordain to feed my hate. 
The king thy father, reft of his poor whelp, 
Shall yield me tribute, not in riches vast, 
But days and nights of sorrow till he dies. 
E'en now he sits mid palace-splendors, dumb 



The Green Knight 

With grief. Thy mother, unconsoled, distraught. 
In anguish wrings the hands that fondled thee; 
Despair with cruel fingers tears her heart, 
While Madness like a vulture hovers near 
And mocks her prey. . . . 

THE PRINCE 

Ah, fiend! vile fiend! of Hell's dark brood most vile! 
Mine eyes forget their tears of anguish, yet 
They weep for shame that thy befouling sight 
Hath seen them weep. I do defy thee, fiend! 

THE BLACK KNIGHT \laUghing\ 

Thy rashness doth beguile me. . . . Like a flame 

It burns from thy quick heart — from that quick heart 

That I shall slowly crush as if it were 

A nestling shivering helpless in my hand. 

Thy woe shall pleasure me for many days; 

Here shall I lesson thee to covet death; 

To pant and cry for death's sweet mercy — yea, 

And I shall laugh till Hell's black walls resound! 

[He laughs, .] 

Come, Madolor! What ho! Ho, Madolor! 

[madolor, a hideous, misshapen dwarf, enters. He 
is habited shabbily in greenish black. His short 
tunic has a hood that hangs down his back and he 
wears a wide belt of black leather. His hair is 
short and unkempt. He carries a human thigh-bone 
in his hand. A mysterious and ghastly light that 
seems to emanate from his person adds to his terri- 
fying aspetl. A red glint flashes from his eyes.~\ 

MADOLOR 

Master, I am here. 

[12] 



The Green Knight 



THE BLACK KNIGHT 



Take thou this stripling! 
A royal prize! He is the king's own son. 



MADOLOR 



Be thou the king's own son or bastard from the belly 
of thy dam, thou shalt be chambered as thou never wast 
before. Hard by, there is a cavern; on its miry floor 
crawl vipers, toads, and filthy vermin. There, in slime 
and ordure, thou shalt lie and spew thy heart. 



THE BLACK KNIGHT 



Thy purpose brims thy wish, good Madolor, 

But hither hale my captives — they that rode 

In proudest panoply beside the king. 

\fCo the PRINCE.] 

Thou touchest at thy doom and now shalt see 

How I do break men's souls. Go, Madolor! 



MADOLOR 



I need no goading for this swineherd's work; it suits 
my aspirations as maggots suit a bloated carcass festering 
in the sun. 

[madolor goes out. Darkness falls as from a cloud 
passing across the moon. 'The black knight 
stands in the middle of the glade , illumined by a 
dim and ghastly light. ~\ 

THE BLACK KNIGHT 

Now when the midnight 
With horror and blackness 
Spreadeth its wings 
Like some foul bird of prey, 

[*3] 



The Green Knight 

Hear me, O Sathanas, 
Hear me, thou mighty one, 
Father of Sin 
And begetter of Evil ! 
Hear me and judge me, 

monarch and master! 

Thou, round whose iron throne 

Raven forever 

The flame and the roar 

Of thy furnaces dread, 

Mingled with cries 

Of thy gibbering demons, 

Pierced by the moans 

And the shrieks of the damned; 

Thou who tormentest 

The spirits of dead men, 

Hear me and see 

How I strive in thy service — 

Strive to embitter 

The world with disaster; 

Strive to load life 

With the terrors of Hell] 

Into my hands 

Thou hast given the power 

To smite all mankind 

With the sharp scourge of Care; 

Well have I labored, 

And now in the passion 

Of hatred's fulfilment 

1 glorify thee! 

[14] 



The Green Knight 

Sathanas! . . . Sathanas! . . . 

Answer thy servitor! 

Sathanas! Answer me! 

Father and lord ! 
\jThe earth opens on the lower hillside^ disclosing the 
red and luminous interior of a cavern. Flames 
are seen lea-ping within; thunder roars; lightning 
flashes through the forest. In the mouth of the 
cave stands sathanas, completely habited in black 
and wrapped in a black cloak.~\ 

SATHANAS 

Thou serv'st me well, O son of mine, most well. 

I am content with thee. . . . 

But falter not nor stay thy cruelties ! 

Let sink thy venom deeper in the breasts 

Of men, and send them shuddering to their doom ! 

Cease not to sow corruption in the world; 

So reap I fuller harvest for my fires ! 

With powers darker, more malign and fell 

Thee I engird that thou may'st doubly serve 

Thy lust and mine. . . . But cheat not Death too long! 

Corrode with care the heart of innocence! 

Defile the springs of happiness, and pollute 

With lechery the virgin founts of love ! 

And yet, remember that 'tis I!. ..I!. ..I!... 

Whom thou dost serve — I, Sathanas, thy god! 

Hold not my victims to indulge thy hate! 

Send to my house forthwith yon cringing thing 

To feed the altar flames that leap and hiss 

Upon the ruddy battlements of Hell ! 

[sathanas disappears amid flames accompanied by 

thunder and lightnings and the cavern closes in 

darkness.~\ 

[15] 



"The Green Knight 

the prince [kneeling and crossing himself '] 

O thou Almighty, everlasting God, 
Defend thy servant in his peril and need! 
[Praying with repressed fervor] 

Illumina, quaesumus, Domine Deus, tenebras nostras; 
et totius hujus noclis insidias tu a nobis repelle propitius. 
Per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum Filium tuum, 
qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti Deus, 
per omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen. 

[m ado lor runs in and, approaching the black 
knight, speaks with savage glee.] 

MADOLOR 

Hither comes the mongrel pack, as mangy dogs as ever 
bitch gave birth to. 

[As madolor speaks the first of the captives enters. 

Others singly or in twos and threes straggle in 

slowly, walking with bowed heads. 'They are 

garbed in long, shabby coats of sombre hues. As 

the captives come in, a lugubrious strain of music 

is heard. It gradually increases in volume as 

they fill the scene. The prince looks furtively at 

the faces of one after another, while madolor 

goes about among them uttering threats and abuse.] 

Come! ye move as slow as any glutted beast altho' your 

guts are withered from disuse. Move! Move! or I shall 

smite thee with this treeless root I digged from out a 

grave ! 

[The prince recognizes some of the captives and 
speaks to them. They look at him blankly and 
pass on.] 

THE PRINCE 

Agenor, is it thou ? 

[16] 



The Green Knight 

He knows me not. 
But stares with empty eyes that would seem dead 
Did they not move and gaze. 

Ah, Lucan, speak ! 
Andred! Meliot! 

No ! Ah, now I feel 
The deadliest stings of Care ! 

THE BLACK KNIGHT 

What thinkest thou 
Of vassalage in my domain? Behold 
How pride and strength are changed to misery! 

[archolon, an old man with a white beard^ is the 
last of the captives to enter; he wears the shabby 
garb of a priest. The prince approaches him.~] 

THE PRINCE 

Good Archolon, 'tis thou! Yes, yes, 'tis thou! 
Thine eyes with memory kindle! Heaven be praised! 

\_They embrace^ 

ARCHOLON 

Unhappy boy ! . . . O God, hast thou forgot 
This tender child all innocent of sin? . . . 
Alas that I should see thee in this place ! 
Thou makest bright the moment, and my heart 
Is warmed to feel thine fluttering in thy breast. 

\The black knight approaches and seizing the 
prince drags him away from archolon.] 

THE BLACK KNIGHT 

So, thou hast found a friend? 'Tis well. My hate 
Shall feast twofold, for ye shall suffer more 
In seeing anguish rend the other's soul. 
Thou callest on thy god ? What is thy god 

[17] 



The Green Knight 

Who lets thee suffer? Bah! a man-made god 
Ye worship with your chants and mummery ! 
But I am neither man nor made of man, 
For I am Care that tortureth all mankind. 
I own no king, and bow but to one god — 
Great Sathanas, the Ruler of the World ! 

\To MADOLOR.] 

Drive to their dens these swine, but leave this cub 

To contemplate the moon that shines afar 

On happier scenes he never more shall know. 

[To the prince.] 

I leave thee in these silent halls of gloom, 

Remember, and be thoughtful of thy doom. 

[The BLACK KNIGHT goes OUt. MADOLOR THUS 

among the captives and begins driving them from 
the glade. ~\ 

MADOLOR 

Begone! Dost love my buffets as I love to give? If 
thou wouldst stay thou shalt, but I shall slay thee first, 
and thou shalt rot here on the ground and so bestink the 
place that all the winds shall carry bidding to the red-eyed 
crows to gorge upon thy entrails. Be off, I say, be off! 
[To archolon.] Be off, thou grey old louse! Thou 
starvling dung-fly! Must this sweet cudgel teach thee 
once again to heed my words ? I '11 beat thee till thou 
canst not say thy prayers. 

[madolor seizes archolon and drives him from the 
glade with blows. He then addresses the prince.] 

Now, whelpling, think on what thou here hast seen, 
and things more dire that thou yet shalt see. [Ironically] 
Thou hast a valiant spirit — aye, thou art brave ! Thou 
fearest not to be alone. Thou fearest not afrits and 
demons of the haunted wood, nor hideous beasts with 

[18] 



The Green Knight 

gnashing fangs, that prowl in yonder shadows ! Thou 
dost not fear, for thou art brave. \_M. align ant ly\ I leave 
thee to thy fancies ; they can take thee hence on journeys 
of desire, but naught can take thy body from this spot. 
Here thou shalt writhe beneath the strangling claws of 
Pain, to taste at last the bitter kiss of Death! 

[madolor leaves the glade, turning as he does so 
with a vicious gesture. The prince, Ringing him- 
self on the ground, buries his face in his hands 
and weeps silently. A harp plays a series of ar- 
peggios that merges into a melody which expresses 
musically the dejetlion of the prince. Meanwhile 
the prince remains alone and continues to weep. 
After the music has been heard for some time the 
elfin lights begin to flit about in the shrubbery, 
and the elf-king enters followed by the elves and 
goblins. He stands by the prince and looks at 
him compassionately. The music of the Dance of 
the Elves recommences and the fairy folk dance 
again. After a little, the prince raises his head 
and gazes with bewilderment at the dancing 
sprites. He does not however see the elf-king 
who presently touches him on the shoulder and at 
the same time makes a sign at which the elves 
cease dancing and run off among the trees. ~\ 

the elf-king 

Peace, weary heart, be not afraid, 
Tho* Care and Pain deny thee rest; 
Fear not, but know thy life is blest, 
And face thy trial undismayed. 
Let merry elves that danced and played 
Within this dark and cheerless glade 

[19] 



The Green Knight 

Bring hope and courage to thy breast. 

Thy life a fairy charm attends — 

All evil things its power defies — 

For as a child thou call'dst us friends 

Tho' sightless to thy watchful eyes. . . . 

\fThe sound of approaching steps is here suggested 
musically, and is followed by a strain of spiritual 
character accompanying the following lines which 
the elf-king speaks very slowly and mystically^ 

But hark! the wind no longer sighs; 

Across the solemn night I hear 

A sound that to thy mortal ear 

May whisper of a step that wends 

Thro* forest ways. Near and more near 

It comes, while from Night's dusky hood 

The moon now sheds her tender beams. 

What mystery is nigh? It seems 

As if from out the gate of dreams 

Some spirit wanders thro' the wood. 

Come . . . follow me and falter not — 

The elves, thy friends, now guard this spot — 

In yonder coppice let us hide 

And see what fortune may betide. 

\Upon the elf-king's allusion to the moon, moonlight 
slowly suffuses the hillside as well as the glade. 
At the bidding of the elf-king, the prince rises 
and follows him, together they steal into the 
shrubbery at one side of the glade, which is thus 
left empty. 'The mystical characler of the music 
merges at last into an heroic phrase, and the 
mounted figure of the green knight moves along 
the highest path on the hillside. His white horse 
is covered with a green housing ornamented with 

[20] 



The Green Knight 

gold and with redwood trees embroidered upon it. 
He wears full armor and over it a green para- 
ment bearing on the breast the device of a redwood 
tree. His shield is of the same color and design 
as is the pennant that flies from the point of his 
lance. 'Three white plumes surmount his helmet, 
the vizor of which is closed. His horse is led by 
an elf who carries a small torch. The green 
knight slowly descends the winding path on the 
hillside. The music continues. When he reaches 
the glade he approaches the place where the brazen 
shield hangs. He strikes it a blow with his lance. 
It gives out a loud, clangorous sound that echoes 
through the forest. The music ceases. The rever- 
berations have scarcely died away when the black 
knight rides in, mounted on a black charger cov- 
ered with a black housing bearing the device of a 
skull. He carries a shield with the same device 
and wears a helmet surmounted by a black plume. ~\ 

THE BLACK KNIGHT 

Defiant thunders thine audacious hand 
Hath loosened from yon shield, and now, rash knight, 
Behold me, quick upon thy summons, here 
To smite thee down and render thee to death. 
Who art thou that entrudest on this ground 
Where no man setteth foot but as my slave? 
Thy blazon doth proclaim thee of a realm 
Unknown; thy mien betokens insolence 
That I shall turn to homage of my might 
Before I pour thy blood upon the earth. 

[The green knight remains motionless and im- 
passive.] 

[21] 



The Green Knight 

Wilt thou not speak a word ? . . . I tell thee, dog, 
Tho* thou be dumb as seems, thy wretched tongue 
Shall utter cries to fright the very beasts 
That will engorge themselves upon thy corpse. 
Near by there is a glen where thou shalt lie — 
There follow me since thou hast mind to die ! 

[The green knight makes a gesture of assent and, 
the black knight preceding, they ride out of the 
glade, archolon and the captives, some of whom 
carry torches, now enter from one side, and the 
prince from the other. ~\ 

THE PRINCE 

In yonder glen didst thou not see the knight 
Who rides to battle with our foe ? Give thanks 
To God, for we are saved at last ! 

ARCHOLON 

Nay, boy, 
The golden lamp of hope still burns for thee; 
Alas, we know how many a doughty knight 
Hath bowed before dread Care's resistless shock. 
Our fate is in the hand of God on high; 
We can but trust in Him, and so beseech 
His mercy. Now in prayer let us kneel! 

[The prince and the captives kneel. The prayer is 
expressed entirely by music. It is composed in the 
form of a chorale and is divided into strophes. 
After each strophe, music expressive of the onrush 
and shock of conflicl and combined with the clash 
of arms is heard. In these intervals archolon 
who remains standing speaks without accompani- 
ment the following lines. ~\ 
[First strophe.) 

[22] 



The Green Knight 

Almighty God, we have suffered in thy sight! Grant us 
grace ! . . . 
(Second strophe.) 
Eternal Father of us all look down upon our woe! De- 
liver us, O God ! . . . 
(Third strophe.) 
Hear us, O Lord, and have mercy upon us! Grant us 
grace! . . . Deliver us, O God ! . . . 

[archolon ascends the lower hillside whence he can 
view the conflitl. The fourth strophe is played and 
is followed by a clash of arms accompanied by the 
Conflitl Music] 
The contest waits o'er long and augurs well. 
As some black billow of a cloud-hung sea 
Is dashed upon a lofty verdured rock, 
The foul one hurls his bulk upon his foe. 

\_A clash of arms is heard accompanied by the Con- 
flitl Music^\ 
\With animation] 

What see my eyes! He falls! O God in Heaven, 
Now lend thy grace to him who fights for Thee ! 

[yf trumpet gives the first phrase of the Green 
Knight motived] 
[Exultingly to the others] 
Let joy, a stranger to your grieved hearts, 
Revive your strength. Now with new zeal exalt 
The everlasting God who heard your prayer ! 

[The captives rise with a show of excitement, and 
archolon comes down among them. The green 
knight now rides in, carrying in his right hand 
the head of the black knight suspended by the 
hair. In the same hand he grasps his drawn 
sword. He lets the head fall into the hands of 

[23] 



The Green Knight 

some of the liberated captives, who remove it. 

archolon addresses him.~\ 
Thou hast destroyed the enemy of man. 
Thou hast set free his vassals. Once again 
We look, upon the heavens bending o'er 
These aged trees that were our prison walls, 
And all their beauty enters in our souls. 
No more their mightiness a menace seems; 
No more we languish helpless in despair, 
For thou hast lifted from our limbs the chains 
Of woe that burdened us, and from our hearts 
The galling weight of care. 

Wilt thou not speak ? 
Wilt thou not name thyself? Whence comest thou ? 
Thy silence covers not thy nobleness, 
But fills my vision with a holy awe; 
Thou seemest as a being not of earth 
But, Heaven-sent, an instrument of God. 

[yf distant horn is heard from the diretlion of the 

hi I /.J 

THE PRINCE 

Hark! A horn rings from the night! 

\fThe horn is heard again.~\ 
Once more 
Its trembling note rides on the shaken air. . . . 
Now does its sweet, familiar cadence draw 
My soul ! \_The horn is heard again.~\ 

Yes, yes, I know that valiant blast ! 
It is — it is the company of the king! 
He comes! The king my father comes! Make haste! 
The way is dark. . . . They wander in the wood. . . . 
With torches meet their coming and make bright 
The pathway's tracing stolen by the night! 



The Green Knight 

\_While the prince is speaking, the green knight 
turns and rides slowly to a station on the lower 
hillside. At the prince's biddings some of the 
liberated captives carrying torches leave the glade. 
The prince turns to archolon.] 
Mark, Archolon, the silent stranger makes 
As tho' he would depart. . . . But no ! . . . He stands ! . . . 
\fThe green knight, with an august gesture, raises 
his vizor. A miraculous light floods his counte- 
nance^ 
What wonder starts my sight! Meseems his face 
Shines as if touched with strange celestial light, 
And on my brow I feel, like a caress, 
The wafture of mysterious, unseen wings. 

THE GREEN KNIGHT 

Listen to my words, O happy mortals, 

Ye who late within this mighty forest 

Languished in the heavy chains of terror. 

Listen, and exalt in adoration 

Him who from the radiant throne of Heaven 

Sent me to deliver you from bondage. 

Nameless must I be, but know that yonder, 

In the spacious dwelling of the angels, 

In the peaceful dwelling of the angels, 

We the chosen, cleansed of sin and shriven, 

Watch and guard the blood of Christ our Saviour, 

Chalked in the Holy Grail's perfection. 

Thence have I, with righteous arms invested, 

Sought this dark abode of evil spirits, 

Sought and slain the demon Care, avenging 

Immemorial wrong and malefaction. 

Care is dead and by my sword hath perished 

[25] 



The Green Knight 

Vile and cruel Pain, his loathly creature. 

Once again ye walk the earth unfettered. 

Be ye humble therefore and forget not, 

Tho' Adversity's bleak spear should wound you, 

God's all-seeing love and grace eternal 

Shall deliver you and clothe your spirits 

With a robe of glory everlasting. 

\_A horn call is heard near at hand from the direc- 
tion of the MIL It is followed by another and an- 
other and finally by a fanfare that merges into a 
march. The persons in the glade, with the excep- 
tion of the green knight, look with expeclancy 
toward the hill, and on the highest path a torch- 
bearer appears leading a horse on which sits the 
king, clad in mail. His sure oat is quartered in 
red and gold, as is his horse 's housing, and both 
bear the device of an owl. His shield and the 
pennant that flies from the point of his lance are 
quartered in the same colors and bear the same 
device. On his helmet is a golden crown sur- 
mounted by a red plume. He is followed by four 
mounted knights wearing armor and carrying lances 
and shields. The horses of the knights are led by 
torch-bearers. The first knight wears a para- 
ment of dark blue, and his horse's housing is of the 
same color. On parament, housing, shield, and 
pennant he bears the device of a scroll of stylus. 
The second knight's color is yellow and his 
device is a pipe and syrinx. The third knight 
wears dark red and bears the device of a brush 
and ancient palette. The fourth knight wears 
bright blue and his device is a sculptor s chisel 
and maul. The King s March continues as the com- 

[26] 



The Green Knight 

party descends the winding path on the hillside. 
As the king approaches the level of the glade, the 
prince ascends to meet him, and some of the liber- 
ated captives move toward the advancing knights. 
The prince greets his father, and walks at his 
stirrup as he enters the glade. The king and the 
four knights range themselves on the left of the 
scene. The music ceases.~\ 

THE KING 

My heart is like a golden cup of roses. 

Where winged Joy drinks deep the sweet excess ! 

\He leans down and kisses the prince.] 

ARCHOLON 

Give praise unto the Lord, for now indeed 
Do blessings fall like flowers from his hand! 
Behold, O king, thy vassals, yet not one 
More joyed to bow before thy will than I ! 

THE KING 

'Tis Archolon, and these my goodly knights! 
Now smiling Fortune sets a brighter crown 
Upon the brow of Happiness. . . . But thou 
My son, of all the jewels in that crown, 
Art brightest to mine eyes and to my heart 
Most dear. Ah, would that I who knew not hope 
Might wing my grateful words to God on high 
Who gave thee to me from thy mother's womb, 
And gives thee once again from this dark tomb ! 

THE PRINCE 

We have been spared by Death, yet in this spot 
His grim and awful presence made us free, 

[27] 



The Green Knight 

For here, our captor, Care, a demon foul, 
Was slain by yonder gracious knight; to him 
We owe our lives and, owing life, owe all. 

THE KING 

Sir knight, thy deed I '11 not affront with praise, 

But show thee to what honor in my heart 

Thy prowess and thy sword have brought thee. . . . 

Come thou unto my court and I each day 

Shall give thee what each day thou namest; or 

Desire at once my sceptre and my crown 

And they are thine. 

THE GREEN KNIGHT 

Not for guerdon has my sword been wielded; 
To thy court I may not ride in triumph, 
For to vasty realms beyond the starlight 
Whence I came must I be straight returning. 
Ere I go, my task fulfilled, I bid thee 
Listen to the solemn mandate given 
Not by me but by our Heavenly Master: 
Care no longer, like a jackal prowling, 
Fills the forest with portentous terrors. 
Thou shalt drive the memory of his presence 
From this grove forever and shalt suffer 
Naught but gladness to abide within it — 
Gladness and the peace begot of Beauty. 
And as time the cirque of years rolls onward, 
Hither shall thy children come rejoicing. 
Here shall flowers bloom and cast their incense 
On the lyric breezes sweet with bird-song; 
Here shall gracile deer and hasty squirrel 
Wander unmolested thro* the greenwood; 
Bending ferns shall catch the golden sunlight 

[28] 



The Green Knight 

That with straight and shimmering lance impierces 

All the pillared chambers of the forest. 

And when night with darkness drapes the hours, 

Mirth shall ripple thro* these leafy arches. 

Thus thy children and thy children's children 

Shall, in token of thy faith and purpose, 

Bring to pass redemption of the woodland. 

Yonder lies the corpse of Care. Go thither. 

Rear a lofty pyre of mighty branches, 

And upon the flame's devouring fury 

Cast the husk that held the sap of evil ! 

\The King s March — diminished in length and 
volume — is again played. 'The company , led by the 
king, gradually withdraws and leaves the glade 
empty. The prince is about to follow the others 
when the green knight addresses him. The 
prince ascends to where the green knight 
stands. The music ceases."] 

Come thou hither and attend my bidding ! 

\He dismounts^] 

This my sword I give thee — use it nobly; 

Care it slew, and in the years that wait thee 

Wield thou it with honor. Take this charger, 

Comrade of my questing, and remember 

Him who rode against thy dread tormentor. . . . 

Leave me now, and with thy kingly father 

Scatter on the wind Care's loathsome ashes. 

Fare thee well, and thus I gravely charge thee : 

Whilst thou livest, glorify thy Master! 

Glorify thy God and praise His bounty ! 

Glorify the Lord whose greatest glory 

Calls on men to serve the cause of Beauty ! 

[29] 



The Green Knight 

\jThe prince takes the green knight's sword and 
horse and slowly leaves the glade. As he does so, 
the area of moonlight is gradually reduced — as if 
clouds were passing across the face of the moon — 
until only the lower hillside where the green 
knight stands is illumined. The green knight 
remains silent for a short time, as if in meditation. 
He then speaks with the greatest solemnity^ 

God shall bless them who serve the cause of Beauty ; 

God shall bless them, for God himself is Beauty — 

Ancient spirit of all that ye most cherish, 

Who the visible forms of Nature worship 

And the mysteries of her mighty bosom. 

Beauty healeth the hearts of those who seek her; 

Yet thro* Beauty men suffer, yea, and perish, 

Bearing bravely the burthen of her service. 

Beauty crowneth the quiet brows of Patience — 

Patience following dreams that lure the dreamer 

Into solitudes none may know but dreamers. 

Beauty giveth to love its peace and rapture ; 

Gold can purchase nor love, nor peace, nor rapture ; 

Yet shall Beauty these gifts bestow upon you. 

Beauty whispereth secret words to poets — 

Words that open the inner gates of vision, 

Thro' which wander the errant feet of Fancy. 

\fThe music begins softly with an announcement of the 
Beauty theme.~\ 

Beauty soareth upon the wings of music, 

Calling harmonies from the lute and viol. 

Kingship passeth; its splendors fade as flowers; 

Temples crumble to dust and cities vanish; 

Yea ! these lofty and ancient trees shall follow 

Fate's implacable law, but Beauty riseth, 

[30] 



The Green Knight 

Bright and glorious, sweet and everlasting. 

Here in forests beneath the weightless curtain, 

Woven cunningly by the silent moonbeams, 

Beauty abideth and charmeth the eyes of mortals. 

Here shall ye who behold her yield her homage! 

Here she reigneth alone, supreme, and holy! 

Here her rites shall be held forever sacred! 

Worship God as ye will, but this remember, 

God is Beauty, and Beauty filleth Heaven. 

Now shall Heaven attest the strength of Beauty! 

\The music ceases abruptly, and the green knight, 
raising his hands on high, cries an invocation^ 
Hear me, Jesu, son of God, whose voice is mercy and 

whose heart is love ! Our Lady, hear ! Angels of Heaven, 

throw wide the gates of gold and let the light of Paradise 

descend ! 

\_Above the hillside, the gates of Paradise open in a 
flood of golden light that illumines the heavens, 
'The music is resumed at the same moment, and 
from the gleaming gates an angel sounds a trumpet 
blast — the Beauty theme. The celestial light con- 
tinues while the green knight slowly ascends the 
hill, pausing many times with gestures of exalted 
adoration. His ascent is accompanied by music into 
which enter the Beauty theme, the Green Knight 
theme, and the music of the forest at night. When 
he approaches the radiant gates, a culminating ex- 
pression of the Beauty theme is heard; the angel 
takes him by the hand and together they enter Para- 
dise. The green knight raises his hands in a final 
gesture of exaltation ; the gates close; the music 
ends triumphantly ; and all is dark and silent .] 
the end. 

[31] 










&&Utdo/bj~ 



COSTUMES 



Plate I 




COSTUMES 



Plate II 



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COSTUMES 



Plate III 




SYNOPSIS OF THE MUSIC 

The Prelude is built in the main upon themes related 
to the action, which will be illustrated in their proper 
places. It begins with a series of arpeggios intended to 
express the music of the cithara that is played by the 
speaker of the prologue (Neotios). Thus introduced, and 
the prologist having left the scene, the Prelude continues 
upon a theme indicative of the forest at night. This is 
scored at first for divided violins alone. 




The theme is developed for a few measures by imita- 
tions on one instrument after another until all cease on a 

[37] 



SynGpsis of the Music 

forte. A florid passage assigned to a single 'cello intro- 
duces the Green Knight theme which is played at first in 
a cantabile by the 'cellos and then by the other strings. 

-Moderato, cantabile 




A portion of the Dance of the Elves is next introduced. 
This is built upon the following theme : 

Allegro leggiero. 




Into this the Black Knight or Care theme enters. 

Sostenuto pesante. 



V. 



m 



etc 






s r t 



When the Dance of the Elves occurs in the action, the 
Care theme enters under the dance melody and is re- 
peated at intervals preparatory to the entrance of the 
Black Knight. 

[38] 



Synopsis of the Music 

The remainder of the Prelude consists of a foreshadow- 
ing of the Conflict Music which will be illustrated where it 
occurs in the action, followed by the Green Knight theme 
in triumphant form, indicative of the Green Knight's 
victory over Care, and finally by a repetition of the quiet 
measures expressive of the forest at night with which the 
Prelude began. 

The Prelude is intended to intensify the atmosphere 
of mystery suggested by the prologue in which the audi- 
tors are bidden by Neotios to dream. It is therefore a 
prelude to a dream and is in full as follows : 



PRELUDE 

[Introductory arpeggios accompanying lastjines ofProlagueJ\ 
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[39] 



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[40] 



Synopsis of the Music 



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[41] 



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[42] 



Synopsis of the Music 

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[43] 



Synopsis of the Music 



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[44] 



Synopsis of the Music 




[45] 



Synopsis of the Music 




The Prelude proper ends when the Elf-King theme is 
introduced and the Elf- King makes his appearance. 



Allegretto 




As the light of the rising moon illumines the scene the 
Moon theme is heard. The Elf-King's address to the 
moon is built upon this theme. 

[46] 



Synopsis of the Music 



Illustration 1. 




O Night, once more, once more I wel-come thee ! 
Andante J -So 




Ki „ k J-'H £U\ j i Xii4-^r4 



7 f 



At last Thy shadowy cloak is cast Up -on the for-est floor. What 



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mys-ter-ies out -pour Froni^QadJatidcham-bers va st , From ag-ed trees and hoar,Proud 




he-ri-ters 1 of lore, Rich cof-fers of the past! 




Now Na-ture in a swoon Of 



bb o 



[47] 



Synopsis of the Music 



love for-gets the noon, And tree-tops.tow-er-stemmed^Are bright -lydi-a-demmedB\ 

S. 

Toco pili nt oss o 




m i- .1 „ fa ri i k j „ J r-4-4-4- $ 1 A 



yon-der pal-lid moon; A silrverli-ly there. In ga rdens of thf gi n With 




pale star-blos-soms gemmed 



Mys- te-ri -ous and re-moteJKis drea-rymeas-ures float A- 
Zreitto 




far of f to the shore Of the land that's called— No More. 




Synopsis of the Music 

The moonbeams enter during the latter part of the 
Elf-King's speech. A few measures of transitional mate- 
rial are introduced while the moonbeams rise from the 
recumbent positions they assumed upon entering, and the 
Dance of the Moonbeams begins. The first figure, built 
upon the Moon theme changed to 3-4 rhy thm,is as follows: 



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A second figure is introduced in this form : 



Piu mas so. 8 




The Elf-King speaks on the closing measures of the 
dance and as he calls to the elves and goblins the fairy 
folk come scampering down the hillside to the accompani- 
ment of the following: 

T49] 



Synopsis of the Music 



Allegero 8 •. 
Ieggiero 



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This changes to the Dance of the Elves that was illus- 
trated in the Prelude, toward the end of which the Care 
theme enters and is repeated until the Black Knight 
appears. The Care theme is then given with the full 
strength of the orchestra and the music ceases. 

An episode of action ensues unaccompanied by music. 
The Black Knight finally commands the dwarf Madolor 
to bring in the captives. As these enter, garbed in "shabby 
coats of sombre hues" and walking with bowed heads, 
they present a melancholy spectacle. The music accom- 
panying their entrance is lugubrious in character and 
parallels in a gradual crescendo the effect upon the eye of 
the gradual filling of the scene. This is written with a 
double time signature (5-4 3-4) and begins as follows: 

Lento lugubre. 




A second figure is introduced. This is derived from 
the Care theme and is the principle basis of the following 
illustration : 

[50] 



Synopsis of the Music 



Andante sostenuto. 




The action now continues for a time without music. 
Finally the Prince, racked by anguish and terror induced 
by the malignity of the Black Knight and Madolor, is 
left alone in the awful stillness of the forest. Throwing 
himself on the ground he gives course to his tears, and 
the orchestra begins an interlue expressive of his despair. 
This is assigned chiefly to the harp assisted by muted 
strings. Its principal theme is as follows: 



Adagio O 
passionate i 



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Andante sostenuto, cantabile 







Synopsis of the Music 



While this is being played the Elf-King enters with the 
elves and goblins and, the music merging into the Dance 
of the Elves, the fairy folk dance about as before. The 
Elf-King presently stops the dance and the music ceases. 

The Elf-King now speaks to the Prince. During this 
speech a succession of tympani beats suggestive of ap- 
proaching steps is heard. The Elf-King, pausing, says : 

But hark ! the wind no longer sighs; 
Across the solemn night I hear 
A sound that to thy mortal ear 
May whisper of a step that wends 
Thro' forest ways. 

•7T ~K *3T TV" -Tr 

What mystery is nigh? It seems 
As if from out the gate of dreams 
Some spirit wanders thro' the wood. 

The spiritual suggestion of these lines is expressed mu- 
sically by the Green Knight theme in the following form : 

Adagto j 




r y^j, 'f 



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Synopsis of the Music 




This is continued until the Elf-King and the Prince 
leave the scene whereupon the Green Knight theme is 
sounded by the brasses and the Green Knight appears on 
the upper hillside. As he rides down the winding path 
the orchestra plays the music of the Green Knight in 
extended form as heard in the latter part of the Prelude. 

The Green Knight and the Black Knight join in com- 
bat in a neighboring glen. The Prince and the captives 
reenter. Archolon the priest calls upon them to pray. 
They kneel and the prayer is expressed entirely by the 
orchestra. It is composed in the form of a chorale. The 
first strophe begins as follows: 

. Largo ^_ 



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At the end of the first strophe a clash of arms is heard 
and the orchestra plays the Conflict Music utilizing the 
Care theme. The following illustration arranged for piano 
will suggest the character of the passage. 



Poco allegro 




i * o 



[53] 



Synopsis of the Music 




After the second strophe of the prayer the Conflict 
Music is made to carry the Green Knight theme. 



Poco allegro 



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Variations of this treatment occur until the prayer is 
ended and the Green Knight rides in upon the announce- 
ment of his theme by a trumpet. 

The action continues without music until a horn call 
from the hill announces the approach of the King who 
presently appears with his followers on the upper hillside. 
As they ride down the winding path the orchestra plays 
the King's March. 

[54] 



Tempo di Marcia 



Synopsis of the Music 
THE KING'S MARCH 




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Synopsis of the Music 




[56] 



Synopsis of the Music 

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Synopsis of the Music 




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[59] 



Synopsis of the Music 




The march is again played in diminished form as the 
King and the other characters finally leave the scene. 
After this the Green Knight delivers his last speech — 
an apostrophe to Beauty. This progresses for some time 
unaccompanied, but when he utters the lines, 

Beauty soareth upon the wings of music, 
Calling harmonies from the lute and viol, 

the orchestra, begins softly with an announcement of the 

Beauty theme simplified from the full expression in which 

it appears later. This simplified treatment of the theme 

is as follows: 

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With this the finale begins and proceeds with the de- 
velopment of the Beauty theme imitated in stretto. 




As a counterpoint to this the music of the forest at 
night, transposed to the key of C-major, is employed. 

[60] 



Synopsis of the Music 



Andante. 




This accompanies the latter part of the Green Knight's 
speech which is spoken with constantly increasing exalta- 
tion — paralleled by the music — until the concluding 
line, 

Now shall Heaven attest the strength of Beauty. 

At this point the music stops abruptly and the Green 
Knight calls upon the angels of Heaven to "throw wide 
the gates of gold and let the light of Paradise descend!" 
To borrow from Mr. Garnett's stage directions : "Above 
the hillside, the gates of Paradise open in a flood of golden 
light that illumines the heavens. The music is resumed 
at the same moment, and from the gleaming gates an 
angel sounds a trumpet blast — the Beauty theme. The 
celestial light continues while the Green Knight slowly 
ascends the hill, pausing many times with gestures of 
exalted adoration. " His ascent is accompanied by the 
Green Knight motive in extended form until he ap- 
proaches the gates of Heaven. The final and full expres- 
sion of the Beauty theme now enters. It is in part as 
follows : 

[6ij 



Synopsis of the Music 



lestoso molto. . — r— \ — ] T" """■' -. i i '"] s ~ -J: -. 

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This accompanies him until having stepped within the 
gates of Paradise they close upon him and the music 
ceases as darkness falls. -c r> c 



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PROF ll£ tf Me H/L/LS/OS 
from a. Jitrrty I 
lOHCAie.Hunrr 

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P^TAHHTa VOHO aUiD HAlM3HOa 3HT 
iH^m)i rT33-f O 3s\T fro doffsimdtaft 



PRAISE BE TO JOHN OF NEPOMUCK, BOHEMIA'S 
PATRON SAINT, THAT ON THIS THE SECOND 
DAY OF THE MONTH OF AUGUST, IN THE YEAR 
OF OUR LORD MCMXI AND OF THE BOHEMIAN 
CLUB XXXIX, IS HAPPILY ENDED THIS BOOK OF 
THE GREEN KNIGHT, WHICH IS ISSUED FROM THE 
HOUSE OF PAUL ELDER & COMPANY esf THROUGH 
THE GENEROSITY OF CERTAIN GENTLEMEN OF 
QUALITY AND PARTS, WHICH HAS BEEN EXQUI- 
SITELY RENDERED INTO TYPE BY THE MASTER 
PRINTER JOHN HENRY NASH, AND WHICH IS 
NOW READY BY THE GRACE OF A MERCIFUL GOD 
FOR THE PRESS OF TAYLOR, NASH tf TAYLOR 



2 19H 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



OCrr 2- I9Ui 



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